


Store Bought is Fine

by Ashtree11



Category: Control (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Reminiscing, Sibling Love, Thanksgiving, i still have an hour of today left so, it's small but jesse/emily is also here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27736786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashtree11/pseuds/Ashtree11
Summary: Jesse has lost a lot of holidays. But this year she wants to make up for that lost time as best she can. So she makes the best out of two bottles of beer and two store bought meatloaf dinners.
Relationships: Jesse Faden/Emily Pope
Comments: 17
Kudos: 47





	Store Bought is Fine

**Author's Note:**

> okay 45 minutes left until midnight where I am, happy gobble day/food day, everyone! i wrote this off and and on and in between family interactions so apologies for any mistakes.  
> anyway enjoy :3

She gave the Bureau the holiday off. They deserved to have a day of real food after spending the lockdown living off of rations and vending machine snacks, though they were still on call in case an AWE decided that Thanksgiving was the  _ perfect _ time to happen. Seeing the halls empty of people and Hiss wasn’t anything new, but seeing Central Executive was a different kind of eerie. No researchers examining the Control Point and filling the space with gossip, no Arish standing over his ‘war table’ in the corner... no Emily waiting for her in the Board Room...

But they deserved the time off, Jesse reasons to herself once more.

Opening the door to the mini fridge in her office, Jesse regards the two bottles of beer (courtesy of Arish), and the premade meatloaf and mashed potato dinners she bought yesterday with a small smile before popping them in the microwave.

Jesse hadn’t thought about celebrating holidays for seventeen years. Sure there were a handful of times that she made an exception for. A fireworks display here, a chance encounter with a Christmas parade there. But not a capital C ‘Celebration’ that holidays entail. How could she when those handful of times she indulged ended in guilt?

Dylan should be there with her. The only family she had left, the only one worth celebrating with. After seeing his cell, listening to his tape sessions, and reading the reports, she guessed that he’s never had a real holiday either.

Well, today was as good as any to make up for lost time.

Minutes later, she stands outside the room that housed her brother with the dinners and beers in her hands and her heart in her throat. Why was she nervous?

She shakes her head and shoulders through the doors.

Dylan was right where she’d left him the other day: lying in the middle of a plexiglass case in a coma.

“Hey,” she greets, her smile forlorn and voice small. She looks him over. “Your hair’s longer.”

The heart monitor beeps away.

She winces. “Heh, yeah I’m not good at small talk.” 

She pulls up a chair and table and sets the food and drinks on top. When it’s all in place, she sighs in satisfaction and gazes upon her brother’s slumbering form. “It’s not much, definitely not like what Mom used to make, but store-bought is still fine I think...” One by one, she pops open the bottle caps against the edge of the table. Then she places one in front of the case and lifts the other to toast. “Happy Thanksgiving, Dylan.”

A hardy swig later, she settles down in the chair and starts eating. The meatloaf damn near burns her tongue so she tackles the potatoes first to let it cool. Overall, it needs more salt, but the gravy saves it somewhat.

“I’m dying to know what you think of the beard you’re growing there,” Jesse muses in between bites. “Makes you look older, I think.” The mouthful she has turns to lead as a thought crosses her mind. She swallows it anyway. “You kinda look like Dad. Still have Mom’s eyes too.” Though their reunion wasn’t what she hoped it would be, she managed to glean details of her now grown up brother, new and old; anything to distract her from the unnerving Hiss chant pouring from his lips.

_ How do you know what they used to look like? _ She almost could hear him ask incredulously.

“Yeah, memories are fragile, you know? I almost forgot what they looked like,” she admits, sticking her fork into the meatloaf as she opens her jacket for one of the inside pockets. “After they... after they took you, I went back to the house and grabbed one of the photos. It’s the, uh, it’s the family photo Mom had us take that one time. I dunno if you remember it. You’ll probably remember that you  _ hated _ wearing that tux.”

She was maybe eight or nine when it was taken, but she can still remember the itchy blue dress she had to wear and the little tuxedo Dylan fought against their dad the entire time he dressed him. The photo is white with creases from her years of folding and unfolding, obscuring those tortuous clothes. But the faces were still intact. A fractured window into the past where Dylan sat in their dad’s lap, his smile wide despite his discomfort and missing his front teeth, while Jesse herself stood beside her sitting mom with her arms draped over her shoulders just as the photographer had posed her.

“You can see it when you wake up, but yeah... the beard makes you look like Dad a little bit.” She laughs to herself as she traces a thumb over their parents’ faces. “I don’t know if I look like either of them. Maybe a little of Mom, I got her face cut I guess. And her hair, it’s just a little longer...” She studies Dylan’s face, expecting some sort of response, no matter how small. 

There was nothing.

As unrealistic as it was, a part of her hoped that Dylan would wake up today somehow and they would eat their meatloaves and drink their beers and they’d just...  _ talk _ . Reminisce about the days before it all went to shit, and apologize and apologize and apologize for not being there for him.

Thanksgiving miracles aren’t a thing, but she figured that at the FBC anything was possible. And they were. Just not in the ways she hopes.

Her fingers shake as she refolds the photo, though the action mechanical and practiced as the creases find their place again and it’s tucked back into the jacket. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I wish I could’ve found you sooner. Or maybe they should’ve grabbed me instead or I should’ve let them get me instead of running. At least that way you didn’t have to go through it all alone. You didn’t deserve what they did to you...” her voice tapers off. Her throat tightens but she quickly clears it with a forced cough. 

“I can’t say that things are going to be back to normal when you wake up, cuz who even knows what normal is anymore, right?” she chuckles dryly. “But things are going to be way better. I’ll make sure of it, and when you wake up, and I  _ know  _ you will, we’ll figure it out from there.  _ Together _ . I promise.” She presses a hand against the case, and says in a conspiratorial whisper, “First things first, you’re gonna get whatever meal you want. The Bureau pays pretty good so the sky’s the limit, Dyl.”

A soft knock comes at the door, yet it still startles her in her seat. “Jesse?”

Her brows shoot up to her forehead, then furrow in confusion. “Emily?” Then saying in a louder voice, “Come in.”

The doors swing open, and in walks Emily with tupperware balanced in each hand. Jesse noted with a smile how different the woman looked in casual clothing. Rather than her usual crisp button up and black slacks, Emily was dressed in jeans and a cozy knit maroon turtleneck sweater with a gray wool scarf hanging freely around her neck.

“I thought I gave you the day off,” Jesse playfully admonishes.

“You did. And I chose to spend it by making these for you and Dylan.” Emily sets down the containers for Jesse to inspect.

She doesn’t open them right away, instead she asks, “How’d you know I was here?”

“Took a wild guess when I noticed that you headed towards your office instead of the front door like the rest of us.” When Jesse raises an incredulous brow, Emily relents, “You don’t have a secretary yet so when you use Bureau funds, the bank statements go to me. I figured that your meatloaf could use a side and a dessert, so I made green bean casserole and pie. Though I didn’t know if you have a preferred flavor so I went with apple because who doesn’t like apple?” Then she grimaces, rubbing her temple. “Shit, sorry. I’m rambling and I just realized that this sounds... weird. If I’m overstepping boundaries, Jesse, please tell me—”

Jesse pats her forearm, stopping her words with a gentle laugh. “No, no, it’s fine. More than fine, I... Thank you, Emily. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

“You’re not celebrating with family?”

Emily shakes her head. “My parents are in Paris again this year. I made time to video chat and wish them well and all that. And, luckily, I have my mother’s recipes memorized so I have a piece of them with me regardless. Though, theory and practice are two different things,” she laughs.

“Well they smell great,” Jesse compliments, bringing one of the containers up to her nose. Warmth blossoms at her fingertips and she finds herself holding it longer than she probably needed to. When was the last time she had a home cooked meal? “I’m sure they’ll taste even better.”

“I suppose there’s one way to find out. On that note, I’ll let you get to it then. Happy Thanksgiving, Jesse.” Then to Dylan. “And to you as well, Dylan.” With a parting smile, she fixes her scarf and turns to leave.

But Jesse stops her with a tender grasp of her wrist. “You can stay,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “You made the food, it’s only fair you get to enjoy it too. Plus,” she hesitates to speak her next words. Even in her head they sounded disgustingly sentimental. Yet, they still felt right. “This is my first Thanksgiving in a while, and since you’re here I’d like to spend it with you too.”

Emily blinks, digesting her words. Then she gestures to the slumbering man in the case with a hint of uncertainty. “As long as I’m not intruding...”

“You’re not,” Jesse insists. “Like I said, you made food and I can’t eat  _ all _ this anyway.”

At that, Emily scoffs, pulling up a chair so that she could sit across from Jesse. “I’ve seen you eat. With all the calories you burn on a regular work day and all.”

“Hey, I’m not  _ that _ bad. You should’ve seen Dylan when we were growing up, he would’ve eaten a whole cow if he could. He was tiny but he had an appetite.”

“Must run in the family. But take it as a compliment. I’d much rather see you eat than neglect yourself. Can’t have my favorite Director passing out from starvation in the middle of Maintenance, now can I?”

“‘Favorite Director,’ huh? I’m honored, Dr. Pope.”

“Naturally, Director Faden. Now, I don’t see any plates so I suppose we’ll have to settle for eating out of the container.”

Jesse smirks as she uncaps the one with the green beans and places it between them to share. “Oh, well forgive my lack of foresight, Doctor. I’ll be more mindful next time.”

Emily hums thoughtfully. The stark white lights of the room did her no favors in exposing the creeping blush rising to her cheeks. “Next time then. And with both Fadens present I’m sure.”

“Yeah...” Jesse looks to her brother once more. “I hope so.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you're interested, here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/Ashtree111)


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